


Home

by unsungyellowraincoat



Series: You and me and everyone we know [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Eskild pov, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Pride, symbolic shower curtains, taco seasoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungyellowraincoat/pseuds/unsungyellowraincoat
Summary: Eskild visits Isak and Even's home for the first time.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> A sappy Eskild pov drabble originally posted on [tumblr](https://isaksbestpillow.tumblr.com/).

“And here’s the shower…”

“Where the magic happens,” Eskild nods as he steps into the small room, twirling around to take in the view: the sticky bottle of massage oil on the white tile floor, the pile of dirty socks and underwear sprawled on top of the laundry basket like a melted ice cream cone, and the pair of toothbrushes resting against each other in a cup on the sink. Eskild smiles. Because yes, while the space is messy and cluttered and suffers from a serious lack of the Body Shop and lavender, this is the mess of two people.

“That was like one time, one time,” he hears Isak’s voice groaning from behind him.

“Thou shalt not lie to your guru.”

Isak crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow in question. “Thought you said I was ready to be my own guru now.”

“You’re still on a trial period, little kitten,” Eskild says with a click of his tongue. “Fabulous shower curtain though, very chic,” he then continues as he brushes his fingertips against the rainbow curtain, causing it to ripple like a pride flag under the fluorescent lights.

“Yeah? Even’s mom got it for us,” Isak says casually, as if giving guided tours to rainbow-themed shower rooms was something he has been doing for years, and Eskild wonders if the lightness bursting in his chest is how parents feel at graduation ceremonies and whether this makes him the youngest gay father in this part of Oslo.

“Does this mean we’ll be seeing guru apprentice Valtersen in designer tights and mascara someday soon?” he asks, unable to hide his delight.

“Depends on who’s asking,” Isak says with a smirk, now relaxedly leaning his back against the door frame, the twinkle in his eyes reflecting in the smudgy bathroom mirror like coins in a wishing well.

“I am,” Eskild deadpans.

Isak laughs and crinkles his nose in disapproval. “In that case, nah.”

“At least send me a selfie.”

 

**

“Tell me everything,” Eskild says, crossing his legs under the table and making himself comfortable on the wooden chair.

“Everything?”

“Anything. Everything. How’s married life?”

“It’s chill.”

“I can already see the headlines: ‘schoolboy moves in with excruciatingly handsome older boyfriend, reveals in an emotional interview: it’s chill’. Come on Isak, you said it was chill when my guy from Grindr thought you were there for a threesome, you need to try a bit harder here.”

Isak snorts, perhaps momentarily remembering the hot Danish mess they had been equally eager to put behind them, but then his face softens as if he has just witnessed the birth of a dozen baby chickens. “It’s pretty sweet,” he says while tracing his lower lip with his thumb, mouth half open, a dreamy glow in his eyes. For a moment Eskild considers waving his hand in front of Isak to snap him out of which ever memory he is currently enwrapped in.

“Pretty sweet? Again, you said that about my taco seasoning.”

“It’s better than your seasoning for sure,” Isak grins.

“Did I invite myself over for you to insult my seasoning or to make actual conversation?”

“Babe, are you insulting Eskild’s seasoning?” Even’s voice asks from the front door, and Eskild can’t help the smug smile creeping onto his lips as he watches fondness bloom on Isak’s face.

Awfully pleased by the observation, Eskild raises his voice in greeting. “Your teenage boyfriend here had the nerve to insult my seasoning, can you believe? He has no idea what my seasoning is capable of, how many guys in Oslo dream about my seasoning every night!”

“Gross,” Isak laughs, tilting his head up and batting his eyelashes as Even bends down to kiss him on the lips from behind his chair, quick and sweet, whispering in his ear something that sounds like hey and I missed you.

“Be nice to your elders,” Even says and gives the back of Isak’s head a playful smack. “So what are we talking about here?” he asks, silently ushering Isak to sit up, claiming his chair and then pulling him into his lap, wrapping his arms around Isak’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Eskild purses his lips and leans back on his chair smugly, locking his eyes with Isak’s. “Oh, I just wanted Isak here to tell me something, but I think I already got my answer.”

Isak turns to face Even and runs his finger across Even’s brows, smoothing them and then making them all fuzzy again. “Yeah, I was just telling Eskild how your tacos are so good that sometimes I can’t even believe they’re real.”

“Seriously? This is the first time I’m hearing this,” Even beams. “Maybe it’s the sour cream?”

“I don’t think it’s just the sour cream, love,” Eskild hums. “Now, who do I need to blow to be served some tea in this house?”

**

“All right, take care of each other,” Eskild says and waves his hand before closing the door behind him, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Isak slides his arm around Even’s lower back and places a kiss on his shoulder. _Take care of each other_. It’s not a command as much as it’s an observation, a fact, Eskild realizes as he skips down the stairs two steps at a time, every bit of his body feeling giddy and young and warm as if his blood was made of prosecco and mulled wine.

It’s late spring and still light outside, the night sky a pale transparent blue, a few tattered clouds scattered about. Eskild is making his way to the bus stop as he hears something rustling in the bushes. There is something moving. A black tail. A pair of bright clear eyes. Small paws. A meow. Eskild squats and extends his hand.

“Don’t be scared, little kitten,” he croons. “You’re gonna find your way home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any and all weird English, writing in a foreign language here!


End file.
